


Mutual Release

by calamityjo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamityjo/pseuds/calamityjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Lestrade entered into a 'just sex' relationship. Except Mycroft never takes his clothes off or lets Lestrade touch him(sexually). Eventually, Lestrade pushes the issue.</p><p>Based off a prompt from sherlockbbc-fic on livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Release

**Author's Note:**

> In response to [this prompt.](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19743.html?thread=119788319#t119788319) at sherlockbbc-fic.
> 
> This is unbeta'd and not britpicked. Not quite finished because I can't find a proper ending. I might in the future.

_Mutual release_ is what Mycroft Holmes called it when they entered into their agreement. Greg Lestrade had resisted the idea initially. He didn't think of Mycroft as particularly attractive but then he never really _looked_. He never really thought much about being with other men but that wasn't what Mycroft was offering, was it? Who else but a Holmes could have sexual liaison without a shred of emotion and keep it secret? That made it safe, didn't it? Get off and go home. No strings attached. 

It figured that Mycroft was into the kinky stuff. Their first time, Mycroft blindfolded him, tied him to a chair and mercilessly sucked him off. In his post-coital daze he realized Mycroft jerked himself off as he did. By the time the blindfold was removed, Mycroft had cleaned both himself and Lestrade up and neatly tucked himself away. 

Most of their encounters were like that. Lestrade never saw Mycroft without his clothes. Hell, he never even seen that man's dick. He could make out the outline of it through Mycroft's clothes but he never really saw it. Only once he got to feel it.

It had been months since they started. With Lestrade's permission Mycroft had begun to use anal toys with him and Lestrade found he loved it. Lestrade had been tied over Mycroft's desk and he _begged._ He begged to be fucked. Until then, Mycroft had always used his fingers or toys. He expected the cool sensation of a toy when Mycroft finally gave in to his pleas. But no, this one time Mycroft pushed himself inside and fucked him. The sensation was quickly more than Lestrade could bear, it felt so much better than any toy and for the first time he took a direct part in Mycroft getting off. God, he _felt_ it. It still made his face warm thinking about it. 

Then, same as other encounters, Mycroft was cleaned and put away before Lestrade even recovered his senses. It was then that something started to nag in the back of Lestrade's mind.

This was supposed to be _mutual_ release. Here it seemed more like Mycroft toying with him and using him a live wank material. Except for the one time he begged. Was that it, then? A power game? Next they were together, Lestrade tested it. He begged but instead of Mycroft he got a damn toy again. He'll admit that the resulting orgasm was still fucking memorable but what the hell was Mycroft's game? Maybe he figured out it wasn't just sex for Lestrade anymore. It started out that way, just sex but as time went on he began to rely on and look forward to their meetings. Not just for sex, Mycroft always engaged him in polite conversation before they did anything, asking questions he surely knew the answers to. It felt warm, comforting and familiar. He really started to feel something for the man. Maybe Mycroft noticed? Why wouldn't he? But even that didn't quite add up. Mycroft would have seen to it that their visits be less frequent but instead they began to meet weekly after that incident.

As time went on, little pieces started to fall in place. The evidence only presented itself when Lestrade was lost in the height of the most earth shattering pleasure, he realized. A strangled cry barely noticed under his own cries. A shaky form glimpsed in that sliver of light between blindfold and cheek. An uneven breath. When he thought back to the one time he felt Mycroft inside him, the slow methodical strokes became erratic and desperate when he moaned his name. He always knew it was about control but now he realized it was not about control over him, that was a by-product, it was Mycroft's control over himself. It was slipping. 

It made sense he supposed. A guy like Mycroft never wanted to be seen as anything but in control. Still, he had questions.

At their next meeting, Mycroft noticed. They stood a good distance apart, facing one another. Mycroft never was too keen on letting him get much closer until they started.

“You have questions. About our _arrangement,_ ” 

“Yeah. Maybe a couple.”

“And?”

Lestrade just looked at him. Suddenly his questions seemed too abstract to form into words. Mycroft stood there unmoving and unmoved. No, not unmoved, Lestrade corrected himself. He just wasn't showing it. Whatever _it_ was. That thought made the words finally solidify in his mind. “Why _are_ you doing this? With me, I mean,” he said, then held up a hand before Mycroft could answer. “You could have your pick, yeah? Anybody in London. Hell, the way Sherlock talks about you, anybody in the bloody world.” He had taken a few steps forward as he spoke. “And don't say convenience. If it were you'd be doing that posh young PA of yours.”

Once it was clear Lestrade had finished speaking Mycroft seemed the faintest bit amused. Shit, Lestrade thought to himself, he is getting off with his PA. That thought must have translated onto his face because Mycroft let out a little laugh when he looked at him.

“Convenience was a factor,” Mycroft admitted, “By far, not the only factor. Yet I hardly see how my preference is of any relevance. You clearly enjoy our arrangement or you would not continue to return.”

“That's just it,” Lestrade snapped. He took an aggressive step forward to bridge the gap between them. Mycroft's umbrella came up to push him back but Lestrade slapped it aside. “ _Mutual_ release,” he growled out, “That's what you said, isn't it?”

“Inspector, I assure you, I--” Lestrade cut him off by taking hold of the man's tie and giving it a sharp tug. “You what?” he challenged, “ _Get off?_ ”

Mycroft's expression was infuriatingly unreadable as he brought his hand up to ease Lestrade's grip on his tie. “You really must calm yourself, Inspector,” he said coolly. Lestrade's eyes scanned the man's face searching for – anything. He can't be imagining this. It was too visceral. Somehow, he _knew_ Mycroft felt _something_ with him. He had to! It was the only damn thing left that made sense. 

Lestrade eased his grip and released the man's tie but he didn't back away. Instead his gaze flicked downward. Without further thought he put his hand over Mycroft's crotch. The reaction was instant. He could feel him fill and harden under the pressure. Meanwhile, Mycroft's hands grasped Lestrade's shoulders to push him away. “ _Hey,_ ” Lestrade said firmly. His voice halting Mycroft. He looked intently at him, he could almost see little cracks in Mycroft's cool facade. “I want this,” he said genuinely. It had a meaning between them. Mycroft would sometimes ask what Lestrade wanted during their sessions. Mycroft often gave it to him if it didn't involve his own nudity or anything that could compromise his appearance of control. It was an unspoken rule that Lestrade respected until now.

Mycroft didn't push him away but he did open his mouth in what was sure to be a protest. Lestrade didn't give him a chance, breaking yet another unspoken rule, he kissed him. It was hard and possessive. There was a terrifying moment where Lestrade second guessed himself. Mycroft's lips didn't move and the man himself frozen in place. Maybe he was wrong, maybe--

His lips moved against his then parted. Lestrade took it as an invitation and pressed his tongue inside. The most remarkable thing happened, he felt him suck on it. Jesus, why the hell didn't he do this sooner? He squeezed down over Mycroft's clothed erection and _felt_ the subtlest of moans through the kiss. 

Finally, Lestrade broke the kiss in a gasp. Mycroft's face was reddened and his breathing had increased but he still looked remarkably unruffled by the experience. Again Lestrade's hand went to Mycroft's tie but this time it was to loosen it and pull it free. All the while he watched Mycroft's face for a reaction or protest. The only sign he saw was a slow bob of his Adam’s apple.

“I _know._ I put it together,” Lestrade told him. His voice came steadier than he felt. An uneasy feeling coiled in his stomach. There was something in the look that Mycroft that made that feeling worse. He opened his mouth to elaborate to say something, _anything_ to make him stop looking at him like that. He looked bloody terrified! When he finally found the words to speak Mycroft covered Lestrade's mouth with his hand.

“Don't.”

The look had disappeared but the fact it was there at all was unsettling. It was getting to be too much for Lestrade. Neither of them should _care._ Yet here they were. He had to do something, if he didn't it would be over, he knew that much. 

In a sudden move Lestrade shoved forward until they hit the wall. His hands moved to Mycroft's shoulders where he kept him pinned. “Turn around. Put your hands behind your back,” he said firmly.

When Mycroft started to protest he cut him off. “No, we're doing this. _Mutual_ release. I'm in control.” He could see the muscles in Mycroft's jaw clench. His head tip back defiantly. _Fuck_ , he isn't going to--

Lestrade drew in a shocked breath as Mycroft turned and did exactly as directed. After a moment's shock, Lestrade secured the man's tie around his wrists then spun him back around. Mycroft remained infuriatingly unreadable. His expression betrayed nothing and there was only a slight increase in his breathing. Still cool and controlled. At least until Lestrade pushed back Mycroft's jacket and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. A small gasp slipped out of him, his cool expression faded into mild distress. 

When he moved on to unbutton Mycroft's shirt, that slight increase in breath became obvious and heated. His fingers brushed lightly over the skin of his chest and Mycroft _shivered._

“Jesus,” Lestrade muttered. His fingers moved to rest over his heart. He could feel it hammering in his chest. The heart rate, he knew, was the hardest thing to conceal and the hardest thing to fake. He always figured someone like Mycroft had found a way to control it. He was glad to be wrong. 

He let his fingers travel over his chest until they brushed over his nipples. God, Mycroft _squirmed._ He gave them a few teasing strokes and rolled them between his fingers. This time his hips twitched. Lestrade's attention was drawn to the bulge in Mycroft's trousers. He let his hands drift downward and settle at his belt. It occurred to him again that he's never actually seen it before. He glanced to Mycroft's face. He had turned his head to the side, eyes closed, face red, mouth open as he desperately tried to control his breathing.

“Look at me,” Lestrade said gently. Mycroft complied hesitantly, his face showed need that he still tried to transform into a blank expression. “Watch my hands,” he directed next. As soon as Mycroft's eyes turned downward he unbuckled his trousers and carefully opened them. He could feel Mycroft's breath grow heavier against his cheek. That's it. Keep watching, he thought to himself.

Slowly, he pushed his trousers down a few inches then turned his attention on his underwear which is pushed down in the same fashion. Finally, his erection bounced free of his clothing. God, it was somehow different to actually see it. He already knew it was an average length but thicker than most and now he could both see it and feel it. He traced a finger over the head and oh the sound Mycroft made. He tried to muffle it but it came out anyway. A moan. A _moan._

It caused a shiver to run through Lestrade. He sucked in a breath through his teeth then leaned forward to speak against Mycroft's ear. “Look at that. I barely touched you,” he breathed. Mycroft shuddered against him.

“The bedroom,” Mycroft's voice, shaky. “The bedroom would be more appropriate.” It obviously took an inhuman effort to form the words without his voice cracking. Now, any doubts that Lestrade still had were completely washed away. 

“Right. Yeah.”


End file.
